


Darling, Petal, Sweetheart

by mahons_ondine



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Fluff, Humor, Kittens, M/M, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-10
Updated: 2016-03-10
Packaged: 2018-05-25 23:38:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6214771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mahons_ondine/pseuds/mahons_ondine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is a teddy bear with teeth. Eames always sees past the teeth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darling, Petal, Sweetheart

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a tiny little drabble for a-forger-and-a-pointman on tumblr. It ballooned. Anyway, happy birthday, CatAuntie. I hope you enjoy it!

~~~~Eames is pretty sure Arthur has grown softer since inception. Not his arse, of course, that's clearly as rock hard as ever, but his demeanor. Eames has always thought he was a teddy bear on the inside, but a teddy bear with teeth. Inception changed all that. And it's more clear than ever on their third job together after inception.

It starts like this--Arthur is late. That never happens. Eames arrives at the warehouse fashionably late, as usual, and Arthur isn't there. Arthur isn't there. The rest of the team has arrived and Arthur isn't there. Eames texts him. A couple of minutes later he receives a text in return.

_"Worry about yourself, Mr. Eames. Everything is copacetic."_

Oh it's Arthur alright, but it's definately strange. Eames leads their first meeting instead. It's not as though he's never led an extraction before, but it feels wrong to be taking Arthur's place.

The team disperses after the meeting, and Eames settles in to wait. Arthur will come to the warehouse first, he's still Arthur no matter what may have changed. Around 9 it starts to rain. Eames props his feet up and drifts off to the sound of rain against the windows.minutes later the door slams open, and Eames is out of his chair, gun drawn, before he even gets his eyes open. But it's just Arthur. Windswept and damp and clearly unharmed. Also a bit thicker around the middle.

"Nice of you to finally show, darling. Is there anything you want to tell me? Are you... Are you pregnant?"

Arthur rolls his eyes, and unzips his bomber jacket. "Men don't get pregnant, Mr. Eames. But actually not a terrible guess. I'm not pregnant, but she is."

Arthur reaches into his jacket and scoops out a small, dirty ball of rags and fur. It meows.

Eames gapes. "You have a kitten."

"She's not a kitten; she's an adult cat. Probably about two years old. And yes. I have her. She was crying in an alleyway and I spent all afternoon trying to catch her. Eventually she gave in when it started to rain."

Arthur places the kitten--cat on a cushy chair and starts to move the furniture, creating a nice empty corner of the room.

"You're going to keep her here?" Eames squeaks.

"Yes. Are you going to be helpful or not?"

"Yes? Yes, of course. What can I do?"

"Go out and get her something to eat. Canned fish, or something. Blankets or towels if you can find them. Wet wipes. Soap, paper towels. That's it for now."

"Sir, yes sir. "

Arthur flashes Eames a smirk, and Eames cuts his losses, turns and runs. Arthur watches his pink tipped ears go.

Eames reappears about forty minutes later, laden down when boxes and bags. Arthur has a corner of the room cordoned off, and he's sitting meditatively on the floor with the cat in his lap. Eames creates a nest of blankets and towels up against the wall, and then helps Arthur wipe down the bedraggled kitten as she devours three cans of Sardines, but turns her nose up at tuna. She's orange underneath all the dirt.

"Thank you, Eames. You should go back to your hotel. Nothing more for you to do here."

"Oh! I can stay! I don't--"

"Go home, Mr. Eames!" Arthur's face softens. "We'll be fine on our own. We're very good at being alone."

Eames goes.

In the morning he's up by 6, out of the hotel by 6:30, and sneaking into the warehouse by 7 am, breakfast in hand. Kippers for the kitten, eggs for the teddy bear. He goes to check on Arthur and the cat, freezing when he peeks over the makeshift partition. Arthur is asleep on the floor curled around a sleepy orange mama cat, one tiny orange kitten, and one tiny gray kitten. The third kitten, a little black one, is perched on top of Arthur's head, his skinny tail curling against Arthur's lips.

"Oh darling," Eames whispers, whipping out his camera to take pictures.

Arthur frowns, but he moves very slowly and carefully, lifting the kitten and placing him next to his mother. Arthur glares; Eames beams, and everyone sits down to their breakfast.

When the rest of the team tromps in at 9 o'clock, Arthur takes one look at their faces and grunts out: "the cats stay."

And that, it would seem, is that. Arthur may like kittens, but he still has his teeth.

The job is fairly typical in most ways. Really the only change is that Arthur leads their meetings from the kitten den in the corner.

After the job is over Arthur is cleaning up the detritus of their month long stay in the warehouse, and Eames is watching, petting the momma cat distractedly.

"What are you going to do with them?"

"I found a cat rescue group. I'll have to drop them off as soon as I'm finished here. I wish-- but no. I'm taking to the rescue group."

"I could take them if you like? I'm ready to leave."

"Eames... Yes. Would you? It would make things easier."

"Anything for you, darling."

Eames packs up the cats, brushes Arthur's cheek with a distracted kiss, and leaves. And that's the last Eames sees of Arthur for six long months. Eames drops off the map.

Arthur is waiting for him when Eames comes home from the grocery store. He's perched on the couch in Eames' living room. He has one cat on his shoulder, one in his lap, and the momma cat is cradled in his arms like a baby. The little black one is on the floor absolutely destroying one of Eames's silk throw pillows.

"Darling," he gasps.

Arthur jerks his head up to look at Eames. The cat freezes, teeth sunk into the silk.

"You kept them."

"I did."

"The black one responds to 'Darling.'"

"Well I should hope so, Arthur. That's his name."

Arthur groans. "And what did you name the others? Ari? Yusuf?"

"Well... No."

"Don't tell me you named one after Cobb?"

Eames grimaces. "The black one is Darling. The little orange one is Petal. And the grey one is Sweetheart."

"And the mother?"

"Sophie?"

"You named her after my mother?"

"Well yes, Arthur. Surely you've noticed a theme."

"I... I--Why did you keep them?"

Eames sighs, sinking down to the floor to gently pry Darling away from his prize and cuddle him close.

"I could see that you loved them. I thought that one day--when you were ready--you would want to have them."

"After they've been living with you for so long? Wouldn't they want to stay with you?"

Eames shrugs.

"Wouldn't you miss them?"

Eames shrugs. "I hoped that when you were ready you might let me see them. Or that someday you might want to have me as well."

"Eames," Arthur breathes.

Eames looks up, and Arthur is on his feet, and then his knees, and then he's kissing Eames. The kittens are scattering; Darling is squirming out from in between them. And Arthur is kissing Eames. And Eames is kissing Arthur. And someday seems a whole lot closer.

 

 


End file.
